Another Flash of Platinum Blond
by PixxieHolloww
Summary: It was gone, that flash of blond hair, but she had seen it just now, she was sure of it. And it wasn't like before; she was absolutely positive that she had seen it this time. There was no way she had imagined it. Where could he be? DMHG - oneshot


**Yay, another sad Dramione oneshot! This one is, yet again, epilogue-compliant. Even the ~potential~ second chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Everything except this plot is JKR's. So sue me.**

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><p>There it was again, another flash of platinum blond from the corner of her eye.<p>

Hermione abruptly stopped walking, her brown eyes scanning the streets of Diagon Alley for what had to be the hundredth time that day. The crowd wasn't that huge, but it was busier than normal considering that it was a Thursday. She pushed all thoughts of the crowd out of her head and continued searching.

It was gone, that flash of blond hair, but she had seen it just now, she was sure of it. And it wasn't like before; she was absolutely positive that she had seen it this time. Where could he be?

"You alright, Hermione?" Ron asked, stopping a few steps in front of her. His hand, which she had been holding for the past hour or so, gently tried to tug her along.

"Yes," she said absentmindedly. "I'm fine." She turned back to him and gave him a smile. She looked around for Ginny and Harry and saw that they were already far ahead, laughing at something or other that one of them had said.

She disentangled her fingers from Ron's and crossed her arms, looking down at the pavement as they continued walking. This had to stop, and she knew it. Not her relationship with Ron, no, but the constant searching for platinum blond hair that had her dropping everything for just a glimpse, no matter how unlikely it might have been to bump into him. She knew that she couldn't keep doing it, but it had become a habit of hers. Constantly searching for him, that is. She needed to talk to him, she just had to. They had some unfinished business to discuss.

Harry and Ginny were waiting for them in front of the entrance to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, staring curiously at them both.

"What happened to you guys? We turned around and we couldn't find you anymore," Harry said.

"Nothing, mate, Hermione just saw something in one of the windows. Lingerie, I think," Ron replied teasingly, a grin on his face. Hermione looked up and smiled, bumping her shoulder playfully against his. She dropped her arms to her sides just as Ron wrapped his left around her waist. Harry shook his head at them both, laughing.

"We should probably get inside, people are staring again," whispered Ginny. The trio looked around and noticed people's curious gazes. The war had been over for three years, but that didn't mean that the four of them weren't as known anymore. If anything, their actions during the war - and after - had made them even more famous now. Wizards all throughout Britain and most of Europe knew of Harry Potter and his adventures with his friends.

Ginny pushed open the door and entered the shop first. Ron went in next, followed immediately by Harry, with Hermione taking up the rear. Just as the door was about to close, she saw another flash of platinum blond, ducking inside one of the stores along Diagon Alley. She contemplated following it but shook her head. She couldn't keep doing this. Sighing, she turned around and started looking for her friends amongst the different inventions of Fred and George.

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><p>"So long, Hermione!" said Ginny as she stepped into the fireplace, a fist of Floo Powder in her hand. They had finished their dinner not ten minutes ago, and were all eager to go home after and exhausting day. Well, most of them.<p>

"Bye, Gin! I'll see you on Saturday," she replied, just as the redhead was engulfed by the green flames.

Next, Harry gave Hermione a friendly but firm hug. "Thanks again for helping me pick out her ring," he whispered into her ear. She smiled back and nodded.

"My pleasure, Harry. I can't wait until dinner at Number Twelve next week. I mean, I understand that Sirius' death anniversary isn't something to be excited for, but I have a feeling that everyone's gonna be really busy celebrating this year. Especially after your little show," she said with a wink. He laughed and stepped into the fireplace, giving his destination as 12 Grimmauld Place before the flames ate him up as well.

And then there were two.

"See you tomorrow, Hermione." Ron said, turning to her. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear before giving her a soft peck on the cheek. A small smile graced her face before she looked down at her feet.

"Goodbye, Ronald," she replied. His hands trailed down her arms before he dropped them and took a step back, right into the fireplace. She turned around before he could leave and walked away.

She went back into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron and ordered a butterbeer to-go. While waiting for her drink, she looked around the pub.

The conversations merged into a slightly loud buzzing sound, especially near the door. A few empty tables were scattered around, but the rest of the tables were filled with happy customers. The biggest group seemed to be celebrating something, perhaps a promotion or a pay raise. Over on the other side of the room, a couple were arguing, but Hermione wasn't close enough to hear what they were fighting about. There was a goblin drinking alone by the window, looking over ledgers and bank records.

Before she could dwell any further on the other customers, the bartender handed her the drink. "That'd be two knuts and a sickle, love," he said. She gave him a smile and placed the coins on the bar before exiting onto the dust-covered walkway of Diagon Alley. The crowd was smaller now, she observed, but then again not many people were around at nine in the evening. The only reason she was still there was because she had to buy a special gift. And it had to be perfect.

Entering Flourish and Blotts, Hermione smiled at one of the cashiers who recognized her. She was there often enough, after all. After casting a non-spill charm on her drink and tucking it safely inside her bag, she walked around a bit, relishing in the cozy atmosphere of the bookshop.

Books lined the walls, from top to bottom, while the displays and supplies were in the center. There was a special offer that week, for copies of the new edition of Nicholas Flamel's studies. She made a mental note to buy a copy before leaving the shop. As she walked over to the displays, she decided to buy him a quill and ink set with parchment.

"I wonder if he'd like that," she thought to herself, absently fingering the feather of one of the quills. Then, just as she picked up a bright red phoenix feather...

There.

Turning swiftly, she spotted platinum blond hair disappearing between the Transfiguration and Potions shelves. Forgetting the feather still clutched in her hand, she headed towards the aisles, her heart beating furiously. She had finally found him.

She entered the aisle, surrounded by books of different shapes and sizes. But no platinum blond hair.

Sighing at her stupidity, she turned around and came face-to-face with the blond she had been looking for for so long.

"Hi," she breathed out, flushed. She honestly didn't think they'd ever see each other again. Or, not properly, at least.

"Hello," he replied, obviously just as surprised as her. He's changed, she noted, taking him in.

His hair had grown a bit longer, now falling in front of his eyes. The hard set of his jaw and his thin nose were slightly more prominent, as were the wrinkles underneath his eyes. She could see that he was wearing black slacks and a green dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. She looked up at him, and he seemed to be taking her in as well.

She had seen him in the papers, sure. First when his mother's role in the Light's victory had been revealed, next when his father had died a few months after the battle. Following those events, his picture had graced the Daily Prophet beside headlines concerning his donations to various charities, including starting up a fund to help the families of muggleborns that died in the war.

But what the newspaper photos couldn't capture, despite their magic, were his eyes. They spoke volumes about what he had gone through - events that no one should ever have to experience. She recognized that look in Harry's eyes, and Ron's and Ginny's. Occasionally, she could see it in her eyes as well when she looked at the mirror. His were different, though. They looked far older than his almost twenty-one years, as if he had seen things that others couldn't possibly imagine. And that's probably true, she thought, remembering his brief but obviously harrowing stint serving Voldemort. Even she couldn't imagine the horrors he'd faced.

Someone dropped what was possibly a heavy tome in the next aisle, bringing them both back to reality. She looked towards the direction of the noise, trying to think of something to say but nothing made its way into her brain. The only thought she had was that she had found him, somewhere other than a public event connected to the war, after three years. And that she could finally talk to him, alone.

"How are you?" he asked, breathless.

"I'm fine," she replied back. She remembered the phoenix quill in her hand and held it up. "I'm looking for a present for someone. It's almost his birthday."

"Oh, a friend?" His tone sounded pleasant but forced.

"Not really, no. We- well, I send him a gift every year, along with a card. He never replies, but I know that he receives them. I get a present from him every year as well." She hoped that he understood what she was trying to say; the message she was secretly sending him.

His resolve fell and he looked at her, with those weary eyes that she remembered so clearly, from before the war had taken him and shattered what they had. "Thank you," he said. "For the presents."

"Draco, I just-"

"No, Hermione. Stop it. I'm- I don't want to hear it," he said, cutting her off.

"But I miss you," said Hermione. It sounded weak and feeble to her ears, but she didn't care at the moment. It was the truth, and he had to hear it.

"Don't you see, Granger? Don't you get it? We can't be together; we don't _belong _together."

"You're wrong," she whispered, closing her eyes. She willed the tears away, but she knew it wouldn't help.

"I'm a convicted ex-Death Eater, and you're a war hero. It just doesn't make sense, alright? Everyone knows that you belong with Weasley. It's been common knowledge since fourth year and I- I shouldn't have gotten in the way of that. I'm sorry," he said, looking down at her. She opened her eyes and stared back up at him.

"You don't mean that, Draco. You don't mean that!" she said to him. "You can't honestly tell me that what happened to us - fifth year and sixth year - didn't mean anything to you. Look into my eyes and say that it was nothing. Go on, do it." People were staring at them now, curious. Draco sent them all glares and then turned away. With a flick of his wand, he cast a silencing charm on the two of them.

"It wasn't nothing. It _was_ something to me, Hermione, but that's all it could be: a 'was'. We can't do this anymore. So go on, go back to Weasley and tell him you love him. I see the way he looks at you, you know, during those charity events and Ministry luncheons."

"But I-"

"Damn it, Granger, why are you making this so difficult? You belong with him, not with me. What we did...it meant something to me, yes. But we can't keep it up. Do you honestly think that your friends would accept this? That Potter and the others would just go along with this? That they'd forgive you for breaking _his _heart?"

She shook her head at him. "Ron would understand, and so would Harry. If they-"

"No, they won't! Honestly, open your eyes. They won't accept this, Hermione. And I won't let you throw your life away. Just because I don't want you to be with me anymore, that doesn't mean...I still care for you, and that's why I'm doing this."

"If you really cared for me, Draco, you would still want to be with me!" She tossed the feather at him, remembering that she was holding it. He caught it with his left hand. "I thought you loved me."

Draco's expression changed. "Fine, if you don't want to listen to reason, I'll tell you the truth." He dug a ring out of his pocket and showed it to her. "I'm proposing to Astoria Greengrass tomorrow. And I'm certain she'll accept."

He turned around and walked away, breaking the silencing spell. Hermione fell to her knees between the Transfiguration and Potions shelves, head in her hands. She didn't see him look back at her with regret and a silent apology on his face.

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><p><strong>While writing the beginning of their conversation, when Draco sounds "breathless" and "pleasant but forced", I was trying to channel Mr. Darcy from the 2005 film, when he first talks to Lizzy at Pemberley. The tone I was trying to go for was when Mr. Darcy says, "And are you having a pleasant trip?"<strong>

**I first wrote this on the back of my English exam questionnaire back in March. I finished the exam some forty-odd minutes early and the plot bunny appeared, so I flipped over the questionnaire and started writing like crazy. I have an idea for a continuation, please tell me if you want it! Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. :)**

**And I know that the rating might be too much for a oneshot where there isn't even any kissing or cursing or even just slightly suggestive scenes, but the rating is for the possible continuation I have in mind.**


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